


California Days, They're Undeniable (Or, Let's Drive the 1 to Fun)

by oneawkwardsilence (microphoneMessiah)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microphoneMessiah/pseuds/oneawkwardsilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We're the beginning of the end. Or, a comprehensive story about roadtripping through California.</p>
            </blockquote>





	California Days, They're Undeniable (Or, Let's Drive the 1 to Fun)

> _we’re the beginning of the end_

They decide to take the 1.

A long stretched piece of highway that hugs the coast and dips with the waves. Reception is shit, so they turn off their phones.

(Pete thinks they should chuck them into the ocean, but Patrick isn’t so sure.)

The water’s a clearer blue than the sky, a rich floor of navies and aquamarines that intermingle with the shore carelessly. The waves lap at the sand, hot beneath the palms of their feet and wedged between their toes as they explore the shore.

(Patrick finds a seashell and Pete tells him lavished stories of what he’d buy him with all the sand dollars he can manage to jam into his pockets.)

There’s a slight chill from the ever present breeze that loves to flit it’s way across beaches. It’s up their spines and tickling at the nape of their neck as the sun begins to fall down. Gracefully though, slipping across bright orange hues and radiant purples.

"Amethyst Mistress of the Forest." Pete informs him, a whisper even though it’s just them with their hands connected on the sand.

Patrick doesn’t reply except with a smile and a quick squeeze; Pete don’t ruin the moment.

It doesn’t last long anyways before Pete’s up, pulling him towards the water until his senses are shocked by cold and salt. He sputters as Pete laughs, punches him in the side as he declares to the half of the sun still watching them, peeking over the water at their antics that his best friend is an asshole. He bemoans and anguishes over his shitty choice in dumb friends all the way back to the car, Pete tossing in a good argument for why he was such a bad choice with a grin every now and then to keep him going.

When they’re back, the car is loaded up with mostly untouched beach towels and a plethora of sand toys; ready to go.

(“Toys, Stump?” Pete quirked an eyebrow at him as he watched. The corners of his lips tugged upward, following his brows, with interest. “Sexy.”

Patrick snorted, holding up a small, plastic red shovel. “Watch it, Wentz. I’ll leave you high and dry in the sand.”

"Even when I’m feeling hot and wet?"

"Clever."

"Thought you might like it.")

Sometime on the long drive back, Patrick falls asleep in the passenger seat with his nose pressed up against the dash. It’s funny, so Pete eases off the road at the first lookout spot and takes out his phone. This is probably one of the few times he’s really glad he has it as he snaps a shot of Patrick’s sleeping face, a softness having taken over the determined look that was usually there. He can’t post it, Internet reception is long gone out here, but he thinks it’s for the better anyway. This one can just be for him and then, when Patrick wakes up, it can be for them.

(“When did you take this?” Patrick nurses a cheap, styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand as he peers down at Pete’s phone.

"The Highway 1 drive awhile back," he shrugs and that’s it.

Patrick blinks a few times, considering and looks like he’s ready to give Pete another talk about minding people’s space and how creepy it is to watch someone sleep. But, instead, he smiles a little smile as he watches Pete.

Pete struggles for a moment, unsure of how to proceed before he takes a sip of his third cup of coffee, just bought. It scorches his tongue and he drops his cup on instinct, splashing himself with hot water. There’s a click and he looks up.

Patrick’s phone is in his hand and he nods his head. “Now we both have dumb photos of each other.”

His turn to blink.

Patrick just nods again before picking up the spilled cup and walking over to drop it in the trash.

"Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll get another cup to go."

Well. “Fair.”

There’s a pause.

"So, are you feeling hot and wet?"

"Patrick Vaughn Stumph, did you just take my own line?"

"Maybe," He grins, cheeks puffed up in the cutest way.

Pete ‘accidentally’ spills some of his coffee on Patrick later. Patrick is not amused.

"Seriously?" Patrick wiped at his cardigan hastily with napkins.

"No," Pete pauses, shit-eating grin jumping onto his face. "I think it looked a little better on me.")

There are only 3 photos that make it from that summer trip. The first one of Patrick sleeping, the second of Pete post-coffee shower, and the third? The third is of them, curled up in the back of diner.

It’s not a flattering photo. Patrick’s skin is a painful red, the sunblock having been left at the hotel and Pete’s desire to drive with the top down being too great to silence. Pete’s wearing an ugly sweatshirt they had grabbed after the ocean had quickly made off with one of his, one day at the beach. The booth they're in has peeling, cracked plastic and the table is covered in half eating food.

But, it captures a moment.

Where Pete’s eyes crinkle up as his lips hold fries like cigarettes, one of them falling out of his mouth as Patrick is gesturing, making him laugh. Patrick has wild eyes, cracking some joke about their waiter and his pissy attitude. He’s laughing too, about to knock over their shared milkshake straight into Pete’s lap. Months from then, Pete will still demand a new pair of pants and Patrick will still claim that it’s Pete’s fault for putting it there in the first place. And no one else will get it when Patrick later quotes, “No, we don’t have any other vegetarian options. No, we won’t put them together. Saladfries don’t even exist.”

Pete will be the only one to laugh and Patrick will beam when he does.

It’s probably their finest summer yet and it’s possibly the best they’ve spent in California.

In a summer along the 1.

**Author's Note:**

> The Highway 1 has my favorite views in my home state, so I wanted to write about it! If you ever get a chance to go to California, take a day to drive the 1, okay? Forget about all the "gotta see this and that" blah blah blah. Drive the 1. That's the realest view you'll ever get.
> 
> (also take me with you? i'll pay some of the gas money or something)


End file.
